18 April 2008

I’m drifting, floating, swirling slowly down into that strange, compelling state that immediately precedes sleep. It’s only a few minutes after 10 p.m., but my eyelids are almost impossibly heavy. I’m sitting up in my green corduroy office chair, and each time I let go and drift away into that fey country of disembodied voices and sudden images, my head tips off my neck and I flail awake, afraid I’m falling.

I’ll stop fighting it now. I’ve been up since dawn. My body is compelling me to be quiet, curl up snug, close my eyes and fall asleep. Nighters …